


Belong

by j_gabrielle



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: "I'm not a Lord. I will never be a Lord. My father's a Lord, my brother Robb will be after him. Bran and Rickon will be Lords just the same, and Sansa and Arya will be Ladies just like their mother.""You're mine, all the same."





	Belong

Jon hesitates for only a moment before reaching up to the knocker. That moment is all it is needed before the door opens from within. 

Tormund's face is a resigned sort of happiness at the sight of him. Jon chuckles softly at that. "I know it's late but aren't you going to let me in?" 

Tormund sighs but allows him into the small hut he keeps on the edge of the Stark property. 

"What can I do for you, My Lord?" 

Jon scoffs, crossing the room in two strides. He loosens his bow tie, undoing his cuffs as he pulls off his coat to drape over the back of the lone armchair. "I'm not a Lord. I will never be a Lord. My father's a Lord, my brother Robb will be after him. Bran and Rickon will be Lords just the same, and Sansa and Arya will be Ladies just like their mother."

Tormund closes the door, locking it. "You're mine, all the same." He comes to stand behind Jon. He brings his hands to rest on his shoulders, the muscles tensing for a moment before slumping. 

"I don't want to be. Not here in your home, at least."

Tormund guides him to the bed seating him there. Going to a kneel, he begins to undo the knots of Jon's shoelaces. "Stop. You don't have to." Jon says softly. Cupping his cheek, Jon smiles tiredly. "You never have to. I don't want you to."

"Aye. But I want to." It is a practiced argument. The steps are that which they both know. Tormund turns his head, kissing Jon's palm as his hands continue on their task. When his feet are bare, Tormund carresses his ankle. His hands are work worn but gentle. A gamekeeper's lot, he'd said once as they'd both watch the first glows of a summer morning creeping through the window from this same bed.

Jon closes his eyes, breathing evening out. He runs his thumb over the rise of Tormund's cheekbone, seeing in his mind's eye the way the red of Tormund's hair is made gold by the firelight. 

"Was it that bad? Dinner tonight?" Tormund asks. 

Jon hums, relaxing back onto the quilt when Tormund's hand pushes at his chest. He allows himself to be maneuvered until he is being held against Tormund. Jon knows he is never safer than in Tormund's arms.

"No more than usual." Jon sighs, tucking his face into the base of Tormund's throat. "Lady Catelyn was cross at Arya for wearing trousers to dinner. Robb and Theon announced that they were getting married whether Father and Lady Catelyn approved or not. Though I suppose anyone with both eyes could tell that that was coming sooner or later."

"But that's not what got you upset, is it?" Tormund murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of Jon's dark curls. 

Jon curls against him. "Lady Catelyn, in the heat of the moment, asked Father if this meant he would be legitamising me now since that would be least it. I spent my whole life hoping that the day would come that when I am with my brothers and sisters, I could call them that. That I would never have to doubt my place again, but tonight..."

Tormund runs his hands down his spine as he gathers his thoughts. "Tonight, when I was on the cusp of everything I ever wanted for myself, I didn't want any of it. I've changed. I'm not that boy I once was."

"And what are you now?" Tormund says, allowing it when Jon twists to pull away slightly. "A pretty crow? An _enlightened_ pretty crow?"

"I'm yours." Jon says, looking into his eyes. Resting his hand on his sternum, he blinks rapidly, swallowing. "I'm yours and tonight, when faced with the possibility that I could have legitimacy, to belong, I realised that I already belong somewhere. Here with you."

Tormund's face is unreadable and Jon feels a swell of emotions choking him from the inside out. "Are you sure?" He hears in a whisper.

"I am. If you will have me." Jon leans in, pressing their foreheads together. 

Tormund chuckles. "You sure have a way of telling me you love me too. Couldn't have just said it like normal people do."

Jon chuckles with him, pressing their cheeks together. "I love you too."

Tormund raises his hand to cup at the base of Jon's skull. Shifting their bodies under the quilt, he holds on tight. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something else, but my muses were being contrary. 
> 
> [I have a lot of feels about these two so come scream some headcanons at me](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com)


End file.
